Maybe happiness too is a metaphor invented on a day of boredom
One day, I shall explode like an artillery shell and all my bits will be found on the writing table.
A superhuman will is needed in order to write, and I am only a man.
For some men, the stronger their desire, the more difficult it is for them to act.
Through small apertures we glimpse abysses whose sombre depths turn us faint. And yet over the whole there hovers an extraordinary tenderness.
May I die like a dog rather than hasten the ripening of a sentence by a single second!